


Repeat as Needed

by Mimine101



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Homophobic Language, Infertility, M/M, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Post-Iron Man 3, Rough Sex, background Tony Stark/Pepper Potts - Freeform, pon farr of sorts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-12
Updated: 2017-01-21
Packaged: 2018-08-22 01:35:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8267827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mimine101/pseuds/Mimine101
Summary: The serum has made everything about Steve's life easier except for the fact that he must have sex at least once a year with a partner he cares about or he'll go nuts. He puts that little side effect out of his mind when he wakes up in the future.Not really just a "fuck or die".  Steve can be a liitle dark. Tony is getting into something that he thinks he can handle.This fic starts a bit after The Avengers and will parallel canon fairly closely up to and including Civil War. Tags will be added as needed.





	1. Chapter 1

Tony doesn’t spy on people. He observes. He keeps track of things. They need to be prepared and even though the Avengers are scattered he has tied invisible strings on them. Light, hopefully imperceptible strings and they reassure Tony. Banner is the easiest as he has accepted Tony’s offer to take residence in Stark Tower. Tony is in Malibu most of the time but it’s good to know where Banner is. The Captain, Barton and Romanoff are in DC, in SHIELD’s clutches.

Tony is mostly upset about the Captain really. He had hoped to convince him to stay in NYC, had even outfitted an apartment for him at the Tower. Steve had been skittish about it. He had stayed a few times in his rare visits to New York and he had been gracious enough to attend all charity balls and Avengers related PR events that Tony had cooked up. All Tony had to say was “charity” and “rebuild effort” and “come on, do it for the widows and orphans” and Steve would be there.

But let’s face it. SHIELD had the Captain. Finders keepers. They were training him, planning on giving him a team and all. There wasn’t much Tony could offer that would beat that.

As far as Tony could tell it had started roughly four months after the Battle of New York. “It appears that there has been an incident with the Captain” JARVIS had told him. SHIELD had contained it as much as possible. It’d been an outburst during training that had landed two agents in the hospital. A few months later online reports – though thankfully no videos – started appearing of Rogers being in public, disoriented and belligerent. Following that he was forced on leave for two weeks.

Then there was the email traffic between the Cap and Banner. Starting about four months ago and currently so frequent that they were exchanging emails almost daily. Tony hadn’t gone as far as to hack that correspondence. He did have some scruples left not to mention that JARVIS wouldn’t talk to him for weeks if he pulled something like that. But there were things Tony couldn’t help observing about the interaction between Rogers and the good doctor. Banner had flown to DC two times. He had been logging new projects with very hazy descriptions and cryptic titles.

It was all painting a picture. There was something seriously wrong with Steve Rogers. Something beyond PTSD or any other purely psychological issue, not with Banner involved. This was clearly serum related. It stung Tony that no one had cared to involve him yet. He was not the foremost expert on the serum but surely two geniuses were better than one. There wasn’t much he could do, kept in the dark like this.

At the end of his mandatory leave Rogers had requested a meeting with Tony. Pepper had not been happy about that as Tony had literally only just landed in California but she kissed him anyway and sent him back on his way. “I guess he wants to tell you what’s wrong with him. You’ve blown me off for less noble reasons. I’ll be fine.”

Tony must have done something really good in a past life to deserve Pepper in this one. It was clearly the opposite with her, he’d even told her once, drunk: “I swear, you must have been Pol Pot, or something!”

So here is Tony, waiting in a nondescript meeting room on the 32nd floor. Drab and grey and almost tech free, a place to conduct SHIELD business with Coulson and now whoever would replace him. Not that anyone had come knocking but Tony was prepared. He had his grey, boring Coulson room though with the agent gone the joke wasn’t that funny anymore.  
Rogers is late. Only by 20 minutes or so and it isn’t like Tony hasn’t found things to pass the time but Rogers is never late. Punctuality is in his DNA! Tony is feeling more and more uncomfortable in a way that has nothing to do with the cheap meeting chair he’s sitting on.

A soft knock and then a beat of hesitation before entering after Tony’s invitation. Then he walks in and whatever has been ailing the Captain it is certainly not visible. Rogers looks as fresh-faced as ever, hair longer than regulation, on its way to looking pretty floppy but not yet reaching boyband levels. He’s in typical Steve Rogers casual, jeans, plaid shirt, a leather jacket. Everything seems normal at first glance but Rogers being late, that hesitant knock, his arms close to his sides. And his eyes… staring past Tony, too wide. Tony feels as though the other man is seconds away from turning around and bolting out the door.

Tony gets up, greets Cap politely, motions him to sit. No matter what Pepper says, he can be courteous and professional, he just never bothers with all that, it’s just not him. Yet for several minutes they just sit there exchanging pleasantries. How is Pepper? How long are you in New York for? How are things at SHIELD? Since you’re here you should pick up your fan mail. And Tony bites back a comment about fans sending in their panties, this isn’t one of his “Let’s make Cap blush” sessions, not with the other man hunched and tense like a coiled spring in that stupidly small conference chair, letting a silence hang between them even though he’d been the one to request the meeting.  
Tony puts on his big boy pants and leans forward, searching Rogers’ eyes. No luck.

“Steve, can you tell me what this is about?”

Rogers takes a deep breath. He rubs the nape of his neck distractedly then seems to have a short internal argument before raising his head to fix Tony with a clear blue gaze.

He gives a slight nod. “I guess I’d better start at the beginning.” His voice is quiet but steady. “About a year after my enhancement I started having some issues. They were… embarrassing in nature so at first I said nothing. But things got worse. I was… unraveling and eventually I couldn’t ignore it anymore. I looked for ways to fix it and eventually I did find a solution. I thought that was the end of it but clearly…” He stops, seems to have ran out of steam.

“Ah, well, this clears things up.”

Steve sighs loudly, pressing the heels of his palms against his eyes. He’s positively radiating misery. “I can’t believe you don’t know anything about how I’ve been acting lately. I know that some of it ended up even on the Internet.”

Tony splays his fingers on the table, staring at them for a bit before speaking. “I do know you injured two agents during training. And that you have been seen behaving erratically…”

“I’ve yelled at people for no reason. I’ve been violent. I can’t sleep. I never needed much sleep after the serum but now I just can’t… if I doze off I get nightmares and a couple of times I’ve sleepwalked. I do things that I don’t remember afterwards.” His voice trails off and he closes his eyes, breathing hard. His face is scrunched up as though he’s tasting something foul.

“What is the solution, Steve. How did you fix this thing before?”

“Sex.”

“Excuse me?”

Rogers huffs out a bitter laugh. “You heard me.”

Tony sits back on his chair, stunned into silence. Am I on candid camera? He wants to ask but bites back the joke. He runs his fingers through his hair, probably shifting it from “artfully mussed” to “startled hedgehog”.

“I’m not sure I understand. Do you have that much of a problem with sex?” The man is a prude but seriously…

Rogers shakes his head. “That’s not it… I’ve tried. I had sex. Two weeks leave, that’s pretty much all I did…” he is so tense, speaking in angry bursts and so incredibly uncomfortable that second hand embarrassment washes over Tony. He’d wanted the Captain to finally tell him what’s wrong but now he’s almost regretting it. The other man has been reduced to a hunched up ball of misery in his too small chair.

“Was this the solution that worked before? And it isn’t working anymore?”

“Not exactly.”

Another pause. Tony breaks it, speaking the gentlest tone he owns. “Steve, you’re telling me this because I’m guessing I can help. You need to talk to me. I give you my word that I will keep your confidence.”

Steve takes a deep fortifying breath. “Bruce thinks that there is an emotional component.”

“That it needs to be sex with…”

“With someone I care about.”

Well how’s that for the man with the nonagenarian girlfriend? Rogers has been in the future for under a year, trying to navigate a world that had changed so much. For all that Tony mocks him and for all he says that he’d give his right nut to wake up 70 years in the future he can also imagine and empathize with how isolating it must feel. Everyone you know, dead. Social interactions evolved to something you barely recognize. And the other complication he’s read between the lines from reports of hush money paid to Steve Rogers’ former Art School buddies. The one that makes Tony’s voice even gentler and makes him use non gender specific language.

“I guess dating hasn’t exactly been a priority. But Cap, isn’t there anyone you can think of? Anyone you feel close to? And sure, telling someone you need to have sex or you’ll go crazy is not exactly easy, though it is sort of flattering. And morals are somewhat looser nowadays, sex on the second or third date, after getting to know each other a bit… well that’s possible. And look at you, you’re gorgeous, you play your cards right and…”

“Jesus, Tony, breathe! I…” he makes a vague, hopeless gesture. “There is someone, ok?”

“Well, that’s great! Look, I understand, it’s mortifying but it’s better than losing your mind! I’m guessing Bruce has tried synthesizing something and it’s not working so time for witch science. Why don’t you just tell that person how you feel and…”

Steve has buried his face in his hands, his shoulders shaking. It takes a few horrible seconds for Tony to realize it’s laughter, choked and just on this side of hysteria.

“I just did.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Continues right after Chapter 1. How will Tony react to that bombshell?
> 
> \- 
> 
> Wow, guys,the response was amazing! It felt so good to put something out there and be read. I should have done it sooner. Sorry for the clickbait sorta ending in the previous one, I'm a terrible person Here's Ch. 2, the afternath. Chapter 3 will be smut but won't be available before the middle of next week as I'm leaving for a short trip (and freaking out about writing smut, I'm so rusty!) If you feel I really should warn for something, let me know and I'll do it!

Wait… what? A sense of unreality hits Tony and part of him wants to just keep misunderstanding this or go back to his prank theory. Sure, Rogers sent two agents to the hospital and screamed at unsuspecting fans just to get to proposition Tony just for the hell of it. Great joke there, you really got me, Cap…

“Oh, well, that shut you up…” Steve mutters, still hiding behind his hands. His breath catches in another bitter laugh. “I mean, you’re a man. You’re seeing someone… This is just perfect.”

“Listen, the guy thing is not an issue. I’m bi.”

Steve finally lifts his face from his hands, frowning. “That wasn’t in your file. Or in anything I’ve read about you.”

Tony rolls his eyes. “SHIELD doesn’t know everything. I’ve been discrete. It’s bad for business. People don’t want to buy weapons or even just tech from a fudgepacker.”

Steve chews on his bottom lip thoughtfully and now that he’s told Tony this crazy thing, his full bottom lip is more tempting than ever. Tony’s always had issues with impulse control and mentally he gets up on the conference table and crawls over to Cap ready to go do some chewing of his own. He pulls himself back, focusses on Steve’s eyes instead. Downcast, long eyelashes casting shadows on his cheeks.

“Before the serum it was just men for me. I mean, I liked girls too but they wouldn’t give me a second look. Things were more straightforward with men if you went to the right places, spoke the language. But after the serum I never dared again. I was in the public eye. You can’t be that and be a fudge… what’d you call it again?”

Tony scoffs. “That’s not a word you want to know. Nevermind.”

“OK. So I thought you were straight and you’re not. That still leaves your relationship…”

“Pepper and I have an open relationship,” Tony interrupts brusquely.

Steve’s face scrunches up in puzzlement. “Meaning that you are honest with each other?”

“Meaning that we fuck other people.”

The puzzled expression gives its place to bewilderment. It bothers Tony, having to explain himself and Pepper.

“It works for us. I have the occasional dalliance with men and Pepper keeps two subs – that’s submissives, not submarines or whatever you’re imagining…”

Steve raises his hand. “I’m not that unworldly, Tony, and I’m not judging you. It’s not my place.”

Tony takes a deep breath, trying to calm the sudden fire in his chest. He catches himself pressing his palm against his arc reactor, a terrible habit and clear tell he’s been trying to train himself out of for years. A glance at Steve tells him that of course he’s noticed and he doesn’t want to spook the other man. Just because the Captain was used as a yardstick to measure Tony’s worth his whole life it doesn’t mean he disapproves of Tony. It doesn’t. He barely knows Tony.

“I will have to tell her,” Tony explains quietly, matter-of-fact. “You’re not a random so this is something I will let her know about. But Pep won’t care.” He points at himself and then Steve. “We can do this.”

“I don’t want you to feel obligated…”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, it’s no big deal. It’s sex. I love sex, ask anyone. It’s not like I’m doing you some big favor here…” Great, Stark. Good job. The man just told you he needs sex with feelings and you’re going on about what a slut you are. That’s sure helping. “I mean…” he amends, subdued, “just tell me what you need?” Perhaps he wants dating, the whole relationship experience, boy is he barking up the wrong tree…

Steve shrugs. “Nothing fancy. I have pretty standard tastes.” He’s addressing a spot behind Tony’s head.

Tony gives a non-committal hum at that. “When?”

“Soon as possible. Even today if that would work for you.” Steve does meet Tony's gaze then, blue eyes round, scared. It amazes Tony how well that works for Cap, this complete inability or rather unwillingness to hide his emotions. He wields it like a weapon along with his youthful good looks. It’s Tony’s turn to shiver with dread. What the fuck is he doing? Today’s too soon, I have work, stuff, there’s always stuff to do.

“Today is fine,” he hears himself say. “Let’s say around 6. Where? I would prefer neutral ground.” The bedroom at the Penthouse is a no fly zone for anyone other than Pepper and flying to Rogers’ apartment in DC might be a bit much not to mention the place must be bugged up the wazoo and Tony can do without Fury getting a sex tape out of this.

“The infirmary.”

“Very romantic.”

Steve rubs the nape of his neck. “Bruce wants to track some things.”

What the actual fuck? “I’m not doing this in front of Banner!”

The other man raises a placating hand. “No, nothing like that. Just sensors and some other stuff… he explained but…”

Tony nods. “Yeah, makes sense. We do need to document this. I’m guessing there isn’t anything from the previous time…”

Steve just shakes his head, studying his hands. He’s flushed, a pinched expression marring his handsome features and Tony starts to feel wrong, truly wrong about this, like he’s taking advantage. Which is ridiculous. He’s being very understanding and sympathetic and at the end of the day, he had no clue that the other man had started harboring feelings for him, sure he’d flirted with Steve but he flirts with everyone, it’s just his thing!

Why me? he wants to ask. Were you so lonely that I pulled on your pigtails a bit and that’s all it took? It is kind of pathetic and that is not a description he ever wants to apply to Captain Rogers. 

“OK,” Tony says softly. “I’ll just be going then.” He wants to touch Steve as he passes him to get out of the room, just a pat on his arm but he hesitates and his hand remains hovering. Great, he can’t find the courage to touch Steve and they are meeting at 6 for a sexual healing session. Nothing wrong with that picture. 

Steve looks up at him, quizzically and Tony retires his hand and just smiles. He gets a tentative smile back and that's nice. They may just get through this.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> OK, so... I'm a bit late in updating but at least this chapter is much longer. It's over 4000 words of smut, smut and some more smut on top. I'd apologise but I intended it. Please feel free to provide constructive criticism and let me know if there are typos, confusing descriptions or things that completely do not work for you. I'm also a bit concerned about how to tag this correctly. I'm not too good with warnings so I did tag for rough sex. I was thinking of maybe tagging with dubious consent but Tony really is consenting even though some moments get a bit rough and kinda painful for him. But please let me know if I should add it. I'd hate it if I triggered anyone.

After the slightly surreal “I’m going to have sex with Steve, hope you don’t mind” conversation with a less surprised Pepper than he would have expected, Tony ends up getting roped into two meetings and the second one is with Koreans, unfailingly polite and ruthlessly thorough. He speaks some rudimentary Korean but he’s nowhere near fluent so by the time the interpreters have gotten through with everything he’s just about to start tearing his hair and give the men anything they want just to get them to fuck off. Eventually he does get rid of them and by then he’s running late and even though the old Tony was always at least half an hour late for everything, on principle, it bothers him that he has left Steve waiting. 

He’s a bit over an hour late when he does make it to the infirmary. He walks into the private room, blinking in discomfort under the bright light. There is a large hospital bed in the middle of the room. Steve is sitting on the edge in sweats and a T-shirt. At least he’s not wearing a hospital gown… Tony’s in a blue pinstriped Ermenegildo Zegna suit, Ferragamo on his feet, easily wearing an unskilled laborer’s annual salary on him.

Steve raises his head to acknowledge him. “There you are.” He looks him up and down. “Perhaps you’d like to change into something more comfortable?”

“This is comfortable.”

“You look good.” It is a statement, not even a hint of a come on in Steve’s tone.

“I know,” Tony preens, falling back into his familiar arrogance.

Steve doesn’t do his usual thing. He doesn’t roll his eyes and mock Tony. He just keeps staring.

Tony rubs his hands together. “So, are you ready to play doctor?” He adds an exaggerated eyebrow waggle and that does get him an eyeroll and a groan from the other man. There, much better.

Slowly, gently, Tony approaches the bed. He places a hand on Steve’s bicep. As firm as he’d imagined it and warm under the soft cotton of Steve’s plain white T-shirt. Tony had bought him a number of joke T-shirts, mainly Captain America related and to his knowledge Steve had never worn a single one. But that’s ok, right? They were just silly and Cap didn’t want to look silly. Tony relaxes his grip on the cotton fabric, strokes again.

“May I kiss you?”

Steve looks puzzled. Maybe ‘30s queers never did that. Well, tough luck, that pouty lower lip is just asking for it.

Steve nods and Tony leans to lose the small distance between them. Honestly, Steve sitting down is almost as tall as him! Those lips are a tiny bit dry but as delightfully plump as they look, opening to let in Tony’s tongue. It’s very minty in there, for all that Steve seemed reluctant to be kissed he did prepare. Tony deepens the kiss and there’s something else too… bitter… wait a minute, he knows that taste!

Tony pulls back. “What the hell? Captain America smokes?”

Steve is flushed and so busted. “It was just one to calm my nerves. How could you even tell?”

“I’ve kissed my share of bad boys. Don’t you change the subject! You were smoking in my Tower!”

“No, it was outside…”

“Outside!” Tony sputters. “The paparazzi will have a field day!”

Steve groans. “This century is so uptight about this! It’s just a bad habit I picked in the army.” Scolded Steve Rogers is adorably mulish and Tony finds himself leaning close again.

“It’s just that you ruined my kissing game. I have great kissing game,” he whines and this time it’s Steve that bridges the distance. They lock lips again and Tony dives in. A few hazy minutes later Tony realizes that in his quest to kiss the other man as thoroughly as possible, cigs be damned, he has ended up clambered on top of him, his knees on top of those rock hard thighs and arms holding tight onto Steve’s back to keep his balance. Steve is being annoyingly passive, his arms hanging by his sides. Some reassurance that they are on the same page would be nice.

“Am I moving too fast?”

Steve shakes his head.

“But something’s wrong.” Self-consciously Tony begins to get off the other man’s lap.

Finally an arm does come up, snaking around Tony’s waist to hold him in place. It seems to have been involuntary and Steve retires it quickly, shame-faced.

“I’m getting some serious mixed signals here,” Tony says quietly.

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“What, my feelings?” He’s dimly aware of Steve puttering about on the bedside table and taking something out. Tony breathes in sharply when he sees and quickly gets off of Steve.

“Handcuffs? Seriously? What happened to ‘I’m a simple guy with simple tastes’?”  
.  
“I don’t want to hurt you,” Steve says through gritted teeth.

They are reinforced steel, Asgardian-rated handcuffs. Two pairs and – isn’t that nice – also two pairs of leg shackles.

“You want me to shackle you to the bed? You do realize it’s not very likely to hold you, don’t you?”

Steve is sitting still next to all that steel and chains, fists bunched up on the soft material of his sweatpants.

“We’ll figure something out,” he whispers miserably.

“Yes, here’s my idea, we just have sex with neither of us trussed up like a turkey.”

“I don’t want to hurt you.” 

“Fucking hell!” Tony runs his hand through his hair in frustration. “Yes, we’ve established that. And you won’t hurt me. Is there something you’re not telling me? These past two weeks did you leave a trail of dead hookers for SHIELD to clean up?”

A loud snort. “Jesus, Tony, No, nothing like that. But I didn’t care either. It didn’t help. It’s like…” he pauses stares at his hands for a bit reorganizing his thoughts. “It’s like I’m on fire and someone throws a cup of water at me. What good will it do?”

“So am I supposed to be more like a bucket of water?”

Steve gives him a brittle smile. “I was hoping for a lake.”

Tony sits hard on the bed next to the blond. “No pressure, or anything.” He places a tentative hand on that broad back, squeezing and petting, trying to provide reassurance he’s not really feeling. He points at the restraints. “Put those away”.

“Tony…”

“No ifs or buts. Put those away or count me out.” Bondage is a hard limit for him but he doesn’t elaborate any further. It didn’t used to be, not before Afghanistan and he’d been working to get past it with Pepper but after the Battle of New York he’d lost all progress and then some.

Steve quickly does as he’s told. Tony doesn’t much like his meek and too young Steve Rogers. The mood in the room has dropped as far removed from sexy as it gets.

“You don’t have to do this. I should have never asked you.”

“Well, too bad. You did and no taking it back now.” He turns to face Steve and gives him a gentle shove until he’s lying flat on the bed. “Why don’t you start?”

Steve blinks dumbly at him.

“I’m telling you to start touching yourself.”

Steve wets his lips. “Why don’t you?” he challenges.

“If the show’s good enough.” Tony’s voice is a low rumble and even though Steve’s hands remain stubbornly clutched at his sides the bulge in his pants has gotten noticeably bigger. “Tell me about what you like to do. With men,” he coaxes gently.

“I haven’t… indulged… not since before. And even then… before the serum. I’d deny myself until it would just boil over, you know?”

Tony doesn’t know. He’s always been very matter of fact about his bisexuality. Halving your pleasure is just stupid and even though he has been discrete about it he’s never worried too much about society and God and whatever had fucked up poor, tiny Steve Rogers.

“You were an art student. Was it really that much of a big deal?”

Steve sighs. “I knew there were others, of course. But I kept myself separate as much as possible.”

Tony doesn’t tell him about the rumors his father had quashed, money paid to people who knew the dirt poor, Irish cocksucker behind the myth.

“Still it would boil over?”

Steve closes his eyes, lost in memory. The bulge in his sweats gets even bigger but he’s still not touching himself. “I’d prepare myself and go to the usual places. Sometimes have as much as 3 guys fuck me on the same night. Gorge myself.”

It’s sordid and a little sad but Tony is starting to find his bespoke suit pants just a tad too tight in the crotch area. “Go on.”

“They’d hold me down, make me take it.” He does reach and give himself a small squeeze at that. Tony shifts, feeling his pants rub against his own erection.

“Take your cock out, let me see you. It gets you so hot remembering, doesn’t it?”

The bed creaks and rocks violently as Steve pulls his pants down to knees and takes himself in hand. He gives Tony a brief look and closes his eyes again, moaning softly.

Tony stares, dry mouthed, fighting against the impulse to slap away Steve’s hand to get a better look. It’s definitely large, pink and perfect like the man himself, the head peeking tantalizingly through his fist. “You have to let me touch you, I’m losing my mind here,” he hears himself say through the sound of blood rushing in his ears. Smooth, Stark, really smooth.

Steve nods and then takes off his T-shirt and finishes removing his pants and socks, gorgeous pink-tipped cock bobbing. Tony has had a decidedly colorful sexual history but is hard pressed to think of a hotter sight in his life. Steve lies back hard on the bed, one hand on his cock, the other pressing behind his balls, flushed rosy skin on display, so much of it, so perfect! Tony forces his gaze away from Steve’s cock to drink in the sight, that beautiful face slack with pleasure, his neck and lower, those perfect pecs that he has seen before, of course, but never dared really look. Tiny rosy nipples that Tony has to look away from when he sees four small circles attached over them. The sensors are wireless at least but they are still there, jarring, and Tony doesn’t want to remember where they are and why they’re doing this. Either way, his brain doesn’t need many excuses to just focus on Steve’s cock again. He means to give warning first but he just goes for it, capturing all he can get in his mouth, his lips stopping against Steve’s ring of fingers.

That gets him an oomph of a surprise from the other man and the bed dips as he pulls lower getting his cockhead almost out of Tony’s mouth. Tony whines at the loss and dives in, not willing to let go of his target even to just beg and explain and cajole. Did Captain America not like blow jobs? What kind of cruel twist of fate would that be?

Tony looks up. He’s been told he has a good blowjob face so he works it batting his eyelashes, pleading silently.

“You just surprised me.” Steve shows he’s on board with a gentle thrust in Tony’s mouth. He’s still holding onto his cock, feeding it little by little, the stingy bastard. Tony breathes in the delicious musk and works with what he’s allowed, softly tonguing the other man’s foreskin. Slowly he moves his mouth lower and lower on Steve’s cock until he manages to slide all the way down. He hums with a sense of accomplishment as his nose gets buried in sandy, wiry hair and smiles at the completely undignified yelp he elicits from Steve. 

Tony’s dimly aware of his own discomfort crouched on the foot of the bed, his neck complaining at the unnatural angle. He pulls up a bit feeling precome coat his tongue. There’s a minute thrust from the other man but he catches himself. More salty precome spurts out, intoxicating and Tony feels his own neglected cock twitch and start leaking in sympathy. He starts bobbing gently. Why hadn’t he done this in so long? It’s so good! Tony can barely remember the last time he sucked cock sober and that makes the taste feel oddly out of context without the buzz of alcohol. It’s as though he’s eating cocktail nuts without the cocktails. The unintended pun in his mental monologue forces a chuckle out of him and of course Steve misinterprets…

“Tony, are you ok?”

He just hums an affirmative and makes a vague “leave it” gesture. He pushes down again, swallowing hard as the head of Steve’s cock hits the back of his throat. He hears a choked off cry from the other man then those strong hands are on his shoulders scrambling to push him off. Too late. Tony’s pretty sure Steve hadn’t intended to give him a facial but he ends up with superspunk leaking down the corners of his mouth, to his goatee, his neck and down to his suit jacket which he probably really should have removed before. 

He glares at the blond. “The hell? You couldn’t warn me?”

“Sorry, caught me unawares…” Steve replies sheepishly reaching to wipe on Tony’s face with the edge of the bedsheet.

Tony closes his eyes allowing the ministrations. It really had gotten everywhere. “Fine, I’ll take it as a compliment.” He feels Steve remove his jacket then go for his shirt. Tony takes over and unbuttons it swiftly, grumbling about oafish fingers. Once the shirt is off, Steve immediately grabs his undershirt.

“It stays on,” Tony says covering Steve’s hands with his own. Steve quits trying to take it off but he runs his fingers on the expanse of stomach he’s uncovered, toying with the soft hairs. My soft underbelly, Tony thinks with a shudder.

“Maybe let me touch a little under your shirt?”

Tony tightens his fingers on Steve’s wrist even though the man has made no effort to move higher. “No. I’m not a science experiment.”

Steve lowers his head. “I think you’re beautiful.” He sounds so sweet and earnest.

“Yes, yes enough with the self-acceptance crap. I also have a beautiful cock, touch that!”

Steve is onboard with that idea, he grabs and squeezes and even through Tony’s pants and underwear the pleasure cuts his breath short. Steve moves on to remove the barriers and it’s even better in that large, soft palm.

“Slow down or I will come like this,” he admits.

“No… I want…” Steve says breathlessly and he doesn’t really need to say it, his other hand is busy on his own ass, three fingers in and... is that Vaseline? Of course it is. Apparently Tony will be having sex from the 30’s. He’s brought proper lube but he doesn’t say anything. Vaseline will do. He’s had sex with some spit and a prayer and he doesn’t even have super healing so they’ll be fine. Steve looks so wrecked, so ashamed…

Tony reaches and cups the other man’s cheek for emphasis. “I got you. It’s ok. I’ll take care of you.”

He pushes down his own disappointment. Things had been pointing that way for a while still he’d hoped he’d end up under Cap. But it really is a crapshoot. How many times has he brought home the toppiest of tops only to have them on their back, legs in the air the moment they’re in the bedroom? He can work with what he gets.

“I got you,” he promises again, pushing Steve down until he’s on his back, still fucking himself on his fingers.

Now where did he put those condoms… A distressed sound leaves Steve’s lips, his hands grabbing hard onto Tony’s T-shirt, near ripping it.

“Not going anywhere, just looking for a condom.”

“No! I want to feel you!”

“Not just for disease, I know that’s not an issue with you, to contain the mess…”

“I want it messy. Please!” He can see how much it takes from Steve to be begging like that and all that desperation is arousing, so arousing that it quashes Tony’s OCD tendencies that are screaming ‘UTI, you’re so getting a UTI’.

“Fine, it’s your party, we’ll do it your way. Give me some lube at least.”

“No, it’s fine. I wanna feel you.”

“Suit yourself,” Tony grouses, positioning himself. He slaps off Steve’s slick hand, he’s well aware of how that part goes, thank you very much! He means to go slow but Steve is greedy, drawing him in with his legs around Tony’s back until he finds himself smoothly buried to the hilt.

“Easy there, Captain Octopus, he grits out, breath hitching because it’s nice in there, really nice. Tight but not painfully so and he needs a moment to compose himself. Without a condom to numb him the whole thing could be over ridiculously quickly.

Steve senses his concern and does calm down, flushed, almost pained looking and mouthing silent pleas.

“Fuck’s sake… you… are… so… pushy!” Tony admonishes, punctuating each word with a thrust. He starts a brutal rhythm going, feet scrambling for purchase. From the knees up he’s completely lying on Steve, all too aware of their size difference. Not that esthetically pleasing and all sorts of silly like a terrier atop a Great Dane.

They’re making quite a bit of noise, the bed creaking violently, headboard banging against the wall, skin slapping, Tony’s heavy breathing and Steve’s whining moans.

“Harder, I’m not a fucking girl!”

“Cap, that’s offensive on so many levels. We need to get you… ah… sensitivity training…”

“God, fucking, damn it, do you ever stop talking?”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Did you have a crush on a different Tony Stark?”

Steve laughs at that. Warmth washes over Tony and he feels stupidly flattered as he has gotten every single time he’s ever made Steve laugh. Which he really shouldn’t care so much about anymore, he’s buried balls deep into the other man, it’s a safe bet that he does like him.

“Harder, Tony, I mean it!”

Tony does his best to oblige, feeling as though he’s at a rodeo. He tries to support some of his weight on his elbows, ends up sliding up with his arm pressed again Steve’s windpipe. He realizes and tries to pull back but that pervert likes it, holds him there with his own hand, gasping and trembling, his rock hard cock twitching trapped as it is between their bodies and stabbing Tony’s stomach.

“Do you like it, baby? Are you close?” Tony is definitely hoping so, he’s not sure how much more he can last but his ego isn’t letting him give in. Steve must have sensed his desperation and he takes it upon himself to speed things up even more, he’s squirming, fucking against Tony in double time and then the bastard grabs Tony’s ass and basically starts fucking himself with Tony. A small part of Tony Stark is indignant at this while his considerable submissive tendencies revel at the rough treatment.

He wants to sneak in a hand between their bodies to jerk Steve off but he’s in a fairly precarious position. It’s as if he’s playing some sort of sexual Twister, feet barely touching the bed, his arm still held against Steve’s windpipe, he needs his other arm to hold on Steve’s shoulder or he’ll just crush onto his chest. Then the hand on his ass starts doing more than just holding on and Tony cries out in surprise as he feels Steve’s knuckles graze against his hole.

“Hey, what the hell?” his rhythm falters as a finger ventures in, thick, dry and just on this side of painful. “Quit that!”

Steve answers by crooking his finger and of course the jerk hits Tony’s prostate right away.

“I mean it!” Tony says breathlessly. “It’s dry. Have you even clipped your nails?”

Steve laughs and slaps Tony’s ass hard with his other hand.

“You complain too much, rich boy,” he growls and that tone does something funny to Tony’s insides. Where did this Steve come from? What is this, some sort of sexual hulking out? Tony’s so fucked up, even that frisson of fear isn’t stopping him, if anything it’s turning him on even more and he doesn’t know how much further there is to go. It isn’t fair, the pleasure sparking from both ends has short-circuited Tony’s brain. One, two, three more deep thrusts into Steve’s gripping heat and he’s a goner. Tony comes sobbing his release against that pale neck, the other man still massaging him from the inside, as if trying to force everything out. He slumps against his muscled mattress, a sweaty, panting mess.

“I’m going to fuck you.”

No thanks, all fucked out. Heart condition here.

Steve adds another dry, too large digit, drawing a pitiful whine from Tony. He forces himself to look at the other man’s face. My, Captain Rogers, what big eyes you have. The world shifts as Steve flips them over, as though Tony needs any more indication of where this is going. He feels Steve’s cock against his stomach, leaking, thrusting minutely as though the other man can barely contain himself.

“You want off this ride, you say it now.” 

Tony’s body answers that instead of his brain with a traitorous shimmy against Steve’s fingers. Even so soon after his orgasm pleasure shoots making him gasp.

“Say it,” Steve whispers into his ear then nips on his earlobe just a tad too hard.

“Yeah, ok,” Tony grounds out. “Do it. Fuck me.”

He’s closed his eyes and feels Steve move lower on his body making at stop at his stomach to lick and bite gently. Then he moves lower and Tony’s OCD cries out in the background ‘Oh, come on man, not ass to mouth!’. However, Captain America surprises him by going straight for ass. Tony yelps as he feels Steve lick the stretched skin around his own fingers, still jammed up Tony’s hole. Tony jerks back so violently he bangs his head against the headboard. Steve gets the wrong message and stills.

“No, no, that’s good, just caught me off guard.”

Steve dives back, pushing Tony backwards to get better access until Tony feels the headboard digging unpleasantly at his back. He reaches and feels Steve’s soft hair, not demanding, just petting in gratitude. With his other hand he goes for his quickly firming cock, gives himself a nice squeeze.

All good things come to an end and Tony can’t help a disappointed groan as Steve pulls out his fingers. That wicked tongue gives an apologetic swipe on Tony’s hole soothing the slight irritation. Tony pushes down shamelessly against it. Tongue fucking? Why, yes please! But Steve just chuckles, he gives Tony one last swipe and a nip for good measure then manhandles him, pulling him down until he feels Steve’s cockhead demanding entry.

“Woah,” Tony has no chance getting to his lube his best guess is that it’s still in his jacket inner pocket but hell, Vaseline will do and he ends up hitting Steve’s head with the jar in his haste.

“You’re such a princess,” Steve huffs. He slathers a generous amount on his own cock then just goes for it, the bastard, no warning. Tony winces at the burning stretch as Steve slowly opens him up with his cock. He stuffs his wrist in his mouth, can’t let any pain show through, he’ll just die if Steve stops.

“You feel good. So good. So tight. I knew you’d be perfect,” Steve croons into his ear.

Tony’s breath is coming in hard gasps. He’s jackknifed under the bigger man, trying to ignore his shortness of breath but it truly is getting too much for the arc reactor. The position is also not ideal for other reasons, the angle not so great for taking in such a large cock.

“Wait,” he whispers. “Let’s… let me get on my hands and knees.”

Steve goes completely still. Tony grabs that sandy hair, all too pleased to find that there is finally some sweat there.

“You didn’t hurt me,” he lies smoothly. “I’m just a bit uncomfortable.”

The blond pulls back, letting Tony get on shaky arms and knees. It’s nice to breathe again. He feels a bracing arm around his waist pulling him close. Tony pushes back, trying to get things going again. He debates asking for more lubrication but the fact is he can take it. He chooses to sacrifice long-term comfort for this delicious, punishing burn, part of him relishing the thought of how he’ll be feeling this all next week. 

Steve enters him again with one slow, steady stroke then settles for a moment, petting Tony’s waist. When he starts to move it’s with merciless long strokes and Tony can tell it won’t be long now. He can feel Steve’s cock get even harder, a metal rod skewering him brutally. Clearly Steve doesn’t want to come alone so he grabs Tony’s cock and Tony isn’t so sure he’ll be able to oblige him. He’s hard but nowhere near close and that palm is dry, too dry. He probably says something to that effect because next thing he knows Steve is pressing his palm on Tony’s lips and he laps on it like a grateful dog. Those large fingers wrap around Tony’s cock again, nice and slick.

“Fuck my fist, baby. Fuck it ‘til you come. Can you do that for me?”

Steve’s so close, quick shallow thrusts his thighs trembling. Then it starts, wetness stinging Tony’s abused insides. He hasn’t barebacked in so long that he surprises himself with how much he loves the feeling.

“Don’t stop,” he begs breathlessly rocking back and forth against Steve’s slowly softening cock and his firm fist. He grits his teeth, keening, he’s close, so close. Steve runs his free hand up his thigh, grabs his balls and that finally pushes him over the edge. Tony pushes forward as far as he can go, dimly grateful for Steve’s bracing strength then there’s nothing but white noise as he finally comes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well... I know the ending is a bit sudden but I wasn't happy with the afternath so I think it needs its own chapter. Sorry!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony after his encounter with Cap, he's fine, really he is. Pre Iron Man 3, PTSD, some Pepper, some Bruce, short I'm sorry but I struggled with it.

Tony’s fine, he really is. So he went to answer an extremely urgent call of nature and returned to an empty room. So what? What did he need, a cuddle and awkward conversation still covered in each other’s bodily fluids? Of course Steve hightailed it out of there at the earliest opportunity, who wouldn’t have? It made total sense.

It didn't matter. It wasn't like he'd had to do some walk of shame, or anything. He'd been there in college, not exactly his finest moment walking through a frat house with some come still on his lips and cupping his bleeding nose. A punch in the face right after coming, his convert had had terrible post blowjob etiquette.

Now, no problem at all, he owns the fucking place. He just picks up his clothes makes it to the elevator and instructs JARVIS to take him straight to the penthouse. First he takes a warm bath, long and thorough, scrubbing hard, perhaps too hard but he enjoys the sting. He pushes his head back, into the water, almost to prove to himself that he can do it. He can push his head back until his face is underwater, see? No problem at all. It doesn't have to be for long, he can do it, a few seconds are enough. Enough, his heart is fluttering like a panicked bird under his reactor, it's as though he can feel it trying to get out. So there is still a bit of shampoo in his hair when he does get out but it's no big deal. He's just tired.

He’s so tired! He crawls to bed even though it’s still so early. JARVIS tells him that Banner is asking for him but he ignores it and then his phone rings and it's Banner so he ignores that too. He wants to tell JARVIS to inform the good Doctor that he's fine, just tired but he feels the words stick in his throat so he says nothing, just asks not to be disturbed. It's hard to find a comfortable position, always so hard, on his back he feels as though he's about to float up towards the ceiling, untethered, lost. On his face had been a favorite pre arc reactor, now it's suffocating. He tries on his side and it's better, somewhat better but he must have his feet under the covers and the covers need to be just right, not too tight, they feel constricting if they are too tight. He just needs to feel them. He must keep track of this, solve it so it doesn’t take so long anymore so his every night isn't a reenactment of the Princess and the Pea. Poor Pepper she never complains about it but all that tossing and turning robs her of much needed sleep too.

Next day he wakes up with all his muscle groups hurting in a way they’ve never hurt from any workout. He chortles at the thought of saying this to that sadistic bastard Miles and his squat obsession. His breath catches as his abs protest the laughter. Who would have known fucking Captain America was such a great core exercise?

He catches his reflection on the mirror and does a double take then stands still for a better look, mouth open in shock. There are finger bruises all over his arms, the back of his thighs and his ass. An imprint of perfect teeth on his upper arm... when had that even happened? More bruises on his spine, probably from being pushed into the headboard and a smattering of hickeys on the base of his neck. At least his face is unmarked.

“What the hell, Jarv. I look like a domestic abuse hotline ad.”

"You do, sir. I’m sorry. I ceased monitoring the Infirmary yesterday, as you requested. Perhaps I should have overlooked that command?” JARVIS sounds uncertain and uncharacteristically young.

“No, of course not! I’m not blaming you for anything here.”

“There are many aspects of human sexuality that I’m unfamiliar with and not likely to ever truly understand but are you alright, sir? Do you wish perhaps to involve law enforcement?”

“What? Of course not," Tony yells, heartbeat quickening with dread. "Please tell me you haven't done anything!"

“I have documented your condition," JARVIS says simply, resolutely. “Captain Rogers is not currently in the Tower but I can locate him and…”

“JARVIS, stop this now. I mean it. Nothing happened. You will not say another word about this again, not to me nor to anyone else. Are we clear?"

“Understood, sir” JARVIS replies frostily.

Two days pass and JARVIS is sulking as much as an incorporeal intelligence can sulk. Tony feels as though none of the lights in the penthouse are ever at full brightness and his coffee maker is definitely slower. JARVIS is unfailingly polite and helpful as ever but has retreated to a completely neutral tone, assisting Tony as he plods through his latest StarkPad OS. He's had to provide the option of using Android too, Pepper had been scarier than ever when she’d forced him to make that concession but StarkOS was so fucking better and even a drunk monkey could use it. How could it not, he'd used Cap as his imaginary user until he had intuitiveness down to an art form.

Not that he wants to think of that fossil. He doesn’t. He’s not sparing him a single thought. Banner has gotten the hint and has been quiet. He's been sticking to his side of the labs and technically Tony could go down and tinker a bit if he feels like it. But Tony doesn't, he's tired, still healing hitting his drawer of Unfortunate Sexual Encounters for painkillers, stool softeners and his flask of bourbon. The cheap stuff for extra wallowing.

Pepper doesn’t call. Doesn’t ask when he’ll be back. that’s Pepper, she’ll nag and nag when it comes to SI business or Tony’s well-being but asks nothing for herself. And Tony misses her, he misses Malibu, the sun, the sea, Happy, even Dum-E, that useless little hunk of metal. He wants a Banner-free workshop.

 

Pepper’s eyes darken when she sees the marks, the few that Tony will let her see. She presses her fingertips on the discolorations dotting his collarbone and his neck. This wasn’t a rule, Tony broke no rules but he still feels ashamed. Her fingers move to his hair next, stiff with product without a proper wash for four days. He keeps things strictly above the neck but he surrenders to her, his CEO, lover, domme, friend and caregiver, he accepts her mothering with shameful gratitude. She’s suggested installing a hair washing basin but he had refused to give in to such a permanent solution and it's a rare thing anyway so he just sits on a stool and she holds him gently back, massaging his scalp, a careful hand on his forehead guarding against stray droplets.

Tony’s been back in Malibu for almost a week when a postcard arrives. The Washington Monument, unsigned, “It worked. Thank you." written on it in Steve Rogers' neat cursive. Tony has never received a thank you note for sex before.

He decides to call Banner that afternoon. The doctor smiles cautiously at him. He looks rumpled, more than usual, like he’s spent a couple of days in the lab. At least Tony hopes that’s it, he really hopes it wasn’t from an unexpected hulking out.

Banner reassures him, smiles. “It’s good to see you, Tony. You look good." said with a slight questioning lilt in the end.

Tony shrugs. “Did you manage to get anything useful out of it?” he blurts out.

Banner runs his thumb over his lips. “I did get some readings. Serotonin levels went through the roof. Some other makers too but I can’t quite interpret them yet…”

"I'd offer my help but you know. Squishy sciences..."

“At this point it’s barely science, Tony. I’m just glad it seems to have stabilized him.”

Tony nods ready to say his goodbyes and end the call.

“He asked about you.”

Did he now? The coward. “And what did you tell him?"

“That he should ask you himself… Tony, he scared me. the way he was after. That’s why I kept asking JARVIS if you were still in one piece.”

Tony opens his arms in a “here I am” gesture. 

Bruce’s kind hologram eyes rake over him and he doesn’t push for a verbal response.

“It was nice talking to you, Doc. Don’t be a stranger. Come down to Malibu one day. I’ll take you to this Thai place that's out of this world!"

The other man smiles gently. “Sure thing, Tony.” And maybe he really will visit.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, sorry for the absence, lack of inspiration and lots of work. The timeframe for this chapter is after Iron Man 3 but Pepper isn't completely cured of Extremis yet and Tony hasn't yet removed the ARC reactor.

Tony is washing his hands luxuriating in the warm water and soft soap. Too many handshakes, arm pats even high fives and Pepper isn’t by his side with the hand sanitizer she can always manage to fit in her clutch. His “date” is Bruce that night. The Benefit is a glitzy but also classy affair, New York’s who’s who there to remember the dead and honor the Avengers on the anniversary of the Battle of New York. His movements are slow, deliberate. He is not in a hurry to leave the haven of the quiet and blessedly empty bathroom. 

“I thought you were dead.”

Tony jumps at the words, he hadn’t heard Steve come in, hadn’t even caught his reflection in the mirror.

He turns off the water and wipes his hands shakily. “What the hell, Cap, you scared me half to death.” 

He’d stayed away from Captain America in the reception hall greeting him with a nod and then not getting any nearer than to pose for press photographs. It wasn’t like Steve Rogers wanted for company. For the entire hour since the Benefit had began there had been a veritable waiting line of politicians and various celebrities clamoring for the blond’s attention. 

Steve Rogers in the Reception Hall had been somewhat stiff but polite and friendly, flawless in his dress uniform and perfect hair, his modern haircut at odds with his vintage army look. The man who has entered Tony’s bathroom sanctuary has wild eyes and is very pale apart from two spots of red high on his cheeks. He’s staring at Tony in the bathroom mirror and Tony does the same for a beat trying to sort out what is happening.

“I thought you were dead,” Steve repeats softly.

Tony turns to face him. “Okay? Clearly I’m not.” He wasn’t dead, Happy wasn’t dead Pepper wasn’t dead and the President wasn’t dead, even though it’d been a close call for all. Happy was still recuperating, Pepper hadn’t stabilized yet though the latest Extremis fix was very promising and who knew what the President was up to though it’s possible he was still shaken up. Tony is fine. More than fine. 

“You know, when I closed that wormhole after you… That’s when I realized. All I could think of was that this can’t be the end, it can’t.” Steve’s voice trails off. “That’s why I asked you to help me. That’s why you were the only person I could think of.” 

Tony nods. “Is this what this is about? Did it… wear off so soon?”

“What? No!” Steve paces then stops and fixes Tony with an accusing glare. “Why did you let me think you were dead?”

“It was what? A few days?”

The other man runs his fingers through his hair, two, three times, exhaling in frustration, he makes several false starts at finding words for what he wants to say until he gives up and just stares at Tony in hunched, blue eyed misery.

A misery that makes Tony take a step forward and then another, until he’s petting those broad biceps, steel under khaki wool. And getting so close was a mistake, as he finds out, because he ends up in a vise like grip, Steve’s lips pressing hard, his decorations pressing painfully onto Tony’s skin through the flimsy barrier of his shirt, Tony could swear he even hears a clinking against the ARC reactor. It’s not a turn on, it should be, it has all the makings of it but Tony’s angry, anyone could walk in and he’s barely breathing, he hates how Steve’s lifted him to his toes. He bites angrily into the kiss and that gives a completely different message, Steve moans and squeezes even tighter, stabbing Tony’s stomach, hot and hard. And even though Tony is still mostly angry and wants air he also just wants, he can’t help his own body’s reaction. It’s been too long. So fucking long, it’s actually been since the last time he fucked Captain America and the realization makes him struggle even harder. Pepper’s pain as eventually she stopped even trying, as his half-hearted efforts to get something going hurt her more than their long dry spell. She could and did get her needs covered elsewhere and then there was Extremis and the forced celibacy that comes with possibly setting your sexual partner on fire. 

Now one forced kiss in the fucking Met bathroom from Captain Rogers in his dress uniform and Tony’s cock is in full attention. A strangled sob leaves his throat and finally the other man lets go of him. Tony fixes his gaze on Steve’s tie, rising and falling with his harsh breath. He knows he’s breathing hard too, the empty bathroom is echoing with the sound. He wishes he could punch Rogers. He needs his suit. He should call his suit and then punch Rogers. Or have a way to have just a piece of his suit. He should create something. Something to morph into a part of his suit. Something everyday, perhaps a mobile phone, or a watch… a watch could work, those nanoparticles, if he can solve the stability issue…

Rogers is speaking.

“Huh?”

“I said I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that. Are you hurt?”

The door bursts open. Tony is an old hand at this, he’s actually been nearly caught before, right in that very bathroom in fact and he can move fast and act busy. Rogers is hopelessly bad at it, comically startled and rushing to bend over the basin and pretend to be washing his hands. He lowers his head, his bitten lip is swollen and Tony can tell he’s still hard, the bulge is actually even more visible in profile. Amateur.

“Well, Cap, better go out, we are the guests of honor after all,” Tony says and opens the door. The man has gone in a stall, clearly too busy with emptying his bladder than paying too much attention to whatever he walked into. Steve looks like Tony is inviting him to walk on a tightrope over ravenous alligators, still he trusts Tony and walks out. Tony quickly guides him to the disabled bathroom and pushes him inside then follows and locks the door.

“Had I known you were going to maul me I would have taken you here to begin with.”

Steve stares at him in the mirror. He whispers “Sorry” and hangs his head low. Tony is still angry. This shit isn’t ok. Perhaps it was ok in whatever movies Steve was raised on, the big, tough guy kissing the girl stupid whether she wanted or not, hard enough until her arms were limp and she just gazed up on him in adoration all her concerns about her virtue forgotten. 

“You shouldn’t kiss people against their will. And you shouldn’t continue kissing them if they’re struggling.”

Head is still hanging low. Steve’s tightened fists on his sides lower the chances of another apology or even acknowledgement of what he’s hearing. He’s still sporting at least a semi.

Tony is inspecting his shirt for signs of damage from its collision with all those bobs and pins on the front of Rogers’ uniform. “So just sort yourself out, rub one off if you must and go out before anyone notices our absence, ok?” he says in a matter-of-fact tone.

He sees what that does to Rogers, the way his nostrils flare in anger and he makes an aborted movement towards Tony.

And there is a part of Tony that wants this so much, just to hell with it all, let’s just poke the bear a little bit, see what happens but last time he thought he went in with his eyes open and Rogers hurt him. He hurt him, he just left and Washington might as well have been Timbuktu, somehow whenever Tony was over for Project Insight Steve would be in a different continent. Whatever reason Tony still tried to find to get the gang together the Captain would blow them off, forget having something more, he didn’t even want a friendship with Tony and taking their cues from him none of the other SHIELD kids did either.

“See you around, Cap.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! I promised myself I wouldn't let an entire month pass and it came close but I made it. I hope you like this latest offering. Beware, there's plenty of smut.
> 
> I need to give a warning for mentions of infertility. It's not a big part of it but if it's a triggering subject for your I'd suggest staying away. I'll put it in the tags too. I hope people won't think it's mpreg... Not that I have something against that, I am pondering an ABO verse fic with that you know, one where Tony comes back from Siberia and he's wearing loose clothes so he's at a press conference and they ask him when he's due and he's super sad because of course it's Steve's... but anyway, enough of that, it's a story for another time.
> 
> Thank you for reading. Comments are treasured.
> 
> \----------------------------------------------------------------------

Tony eventually gets his wish to have all the Avengers under one roof, if something as simple could be said for giving each an entire floor in his tower. It comes after his own brush of death during the surgery to remove the shrapnel from his chest and his glowy body modification. A surgery which coincided with Steve’s own brush of death as he ended up in the Potomac along with billions of taxpayer dollars. Tony had had great hopes for those Helicarriers, he’d worked on them with visions of the Chitauri still in his head, they were meant to protect the Earth not provide the relics of a nazi organization the means to achieve their Final Solution.

In a way Tony was glad that he’d been unconscious while Steve had been presumed dead. Or rather, he wasn’t sure what he was feeling. Anger at Steve for risking his life like that. Immense relief that he hadn’t died. Even just imagining it, waking up from surgery to be told Steve was dead has Tony’s head spinning, his heartbeat rising, threatening a panic attack. Still, he is angry at Steve for wrecking everything. Was that really the only way to handle it? He wishes he had been there, if only the team had been there still everything moved so fast and… let’s face it, they weren’t much of a team. But Tony will fix that.

With SHIELD gone the kids are homeless and bereft and it is only natural to take them in. Steve fights a bit, he’ll figure something out, doesn’t want to put Tony out. Natasha accepts gladly, Tony suspects it has a lot more to do with Bruce’s presence in the tower than with him. Clint follows. Still the former SHIELD kids keep together, guard their secrets carefully. Clint and Natasha have whispered conversations and take trips together or apart every now and then. It’s hard to gauge what is really happening with them. Tony suspects they are fucking but they can do that in the Tower, no need to take off. Still, Natasha is always finding excuses to be near Bruce. Who knows how the Spider thinks? Maybe Tony’s reading things that aren’t there, she is flirty with everyone after all.

Even after getting Steve in the Tower, there isn’t much to that victory. Steve is often with his new best friend, a perfectly nice ex pararescue pilot named Sam. Too often, doing buddy-buddy things, out in games, drinking, working out. Tony doesn’t like Sam very much and senses that the feeling is mutual even though he’s barely exchanged five words with the guy.

It’s a bit like throwing a birthday party and having all the kids play with your toys but not with you. Perhaps whether Tony was 5 or 45 some things just never changed.

Eventually they start going out in missions. Small, mostly domestic stuff. It’s all HYDRA, all the time and it does make sense. They want to cut the cancer out. Steve comes alive when he is discussing his plans with Tony, sure of Tony’s approval yet still with his charm dialed to 11. Tony even confuses one long stare and leans in for a kiss only to be rebuffed gently. He shrugs it off.

“Can’t blame a guy for trying.”

Pepper is mostly in Malibu, overseeing construction in their new home. Their Bond villain HQ as she’d mockingly called it seeing the two subterranean levels and various security features. Yet she’s there, putting her own touch in everything, still by Tony’s side. They talk babies exactly one time as her advancing age and post Extremis scrambled DNA practically kill that dream. The guilt hits Tony in waves, day after day he wakes up and it comes back, first thought every morning myfaultmyfaultmyfuckingfault. He makes promises, says he will hire her an army of surrogates, whatever it takes. He’s not even sure about a kid himself but he’ll do anything to take that pain from her eyes. 

So they settle into this bi-coastal existence, a relationship mostly by videocalls, emails, SMS and JARVIS or Happy relaying messages after their fights. The Avengers become Tony’s bit on the side, bouncing off ideas in the lab with Bruce, training with Natasha and Clint and brainstorming new weapons, there seems to be no end to the tricked up arrows Clint wants to try. And Steve, always Steve, discussing missions and logistics and giving him exasperated looks. “Really, Tony, an action figure?” and Tony replying “It’s paying for your gear and upkeep, I’m not made of money, Captain.” And feeling bad immediately for that wounded look he gets every time he mentions that he’s now funding them and housing them and doing his best to fill the hole SHIELD left behind.

He gets a message for one of those meetings, to bounce around some ideas for funding but always keeping their independence and their dignity. It’s not easy to convince Steve of the need for him to sell “Avenger bonds” as it were. Tell the man to visit sick kids in hospitals and he can do it for weeks, ask him to schmooze up to the glitterati for one lousy night and he whines and pouts like a teenager. The meeting is in Steve’s rooms which is unusual but Tony doesn’t question it.

He finds a freshly-showered Steve, clad in just his boxers. He greets Tony then lies on the couch, spread out and not as subtle as he seems to think.

“What’s with the Men’s Fitness, look?”

“Sorry, didn’t think you’d mind, I’m just comfortable like this.” He peeks over the papers he’s holding then goes back to reading. “I can cover up if it bothers you.” Light tone, so unconcerned. So unconvincing.

“Oh, I didn’t say it bothered me,” Tony says softly, drinking in the sight, all that skin laid out for him on a platter. He drops to his knees watching carefully the other man’s face. Steve hides again behind his papers. So that’s how he wants to play it.

“I was thinking, a comic maybe. An Avengers comic.”

Tony hums in agreement and mouths Steve’s quickly firming erection through his boxers. 

“It’s something I’d enjoy, I think. I could even contribute.”

Tony nods this time, focused on wetting his mouthful. Cotton-covered steel. He nuzzles Steve’s crotch all he tastes is detergent and soap, so clean, his Captain but he knows there will be more scents soon. He reaches to pet Steve’s stomach, enjoying how it trembles under his hand.

“I… haven’t decided on the subject I haven’t… erm…” 

“You’ll think of something suitably heroic,” Tony abandons his mouthful to say. He likes the wet spot he’s left on the black cotton. He blows on it and that gets him a huff of laughter and a twitch. He fastens his mouth again, unhurried. He pulls up the elastic with his teeth and lets it snap back on Steve’s cock. It is a move that has gotten him mixed reactions in the past but the Captain is definitely a fan. He makes a mental note to use some teeth once he really gets this show going. He was thinking of removing the underwear only with his teeth but he just gives in and yanks it down. Steve is keeping his participation in a minimum but his cock practically jumps to meet Tony’s lips, rosy and clean and Tony’s missed this. He’s missed this so much. He sighs in gratitude as he slowly moves down, savoring the familiar heaviness against his tongue and Steve’s musk that finally overtakes the smell of his shower gel once Tony’s nose is buried in wiry, blond hair.

The rest happens practically on auto pilot for Tony as he starts bobbing his head, salty precome coating his tongue on the upstroke. He lets the head scrape on his upper teeth, ever so slightly and the entire couch shakes as Steve twitches as though electrocuted.

“T’was good, do that again,” Steve manages breathlessly.

The little freak. It’s a dick, not a chew toy but Tony complies, trusting Steve to let him know if anything is too much even for him. Eventually Tony’s protesting jaw forces him to pull back a bit and start tugging on the hard length with his hand, squeezing hard and meeting his fist with his lips. With his other hand he starts rolling Steve’s balls, not shaved but fairly neatly groomed – why, we’ve discovered manscaping, have we? He squeezes them a bit and then more firmly, practically on a level that any normal person would start to classify as CBT but that too gets Steve thrashing and moaning broken words that go straight to Tony’s poor neglected cock. He’s out of hands and Steve’s spreading his legs more and more to grant better access to his balls so Tony moves from the hard floor to the couch, right between those muscled thighs. He somehow manages the maneuver without letting Steve’s cock out of his mouth, as though he’ll die if he lets go for one fucking second. From his new position he pushes down all the way, swallowing convulsively as Steve’s cock hits the back of his throat hard… too hard, he’ll probably be hoarse for a bit after, a very common state in his misspent years at MIT and he doesn’t mind. He couldn’t possibly care less. He’s dimly aware of the choking and grunting sounds he’s making as well as Steve’s concerned hand on his head but he’s not going anywhere, he rolls those weighty balls in his hand again and reaches blindly with his other hand to find and give Steve’s nipple a vicious twist. Another winner right there and Tony needs… His cock is leaking copiously still trapped in his jeans so he at least unbuttons and lets it out but then leans forward again, focused on Steve. His cock ends up pressed on Steve’s calf and then the bastard starts moving it, encouraging Tony to hump him. Not that he needs all that much encouragement. He gets some blessed pressure, rubbing himself on the lightly furred skin.

Steve does his best to give warning. It isn’t truly needed, he’s reached the point of stuttered, shallow thrusts in Tony’s mouth. The flood of come brings half relief, half disappointment to Tony and he swallows dutifully while massaging Steve’s perineum through the aftershocks. The blond has arched off the couch, body taught like a bow and slowly he starts sagging back down again, groaning, a couple of “I love yous” slipping out in his grateful babbling.

Things are slowing down. Tony lets go, a string of saliva still linking him to Steve’s slowly softening cock. He looks up to the man’s face, suddenly all too aware of his ridiculous position and aching cock still humping. He’s so close! He’s not sure what Steve reads in his face but suddenly he finds himself manhandled until he’s lying on his side in that maddeningly narrow couch thrusting against sweat slick skin as Steve praises and urges him on. It’s not enough, Tony sneaks in his hand for those final strokes that will push him over the edge and then he’s spilling, nestled in Steve’s groin.

His release deflates Tony like a balloon. “We should clean up”, he mumbles but Steve says nothing. He just tucks Tony under his chin and holds on. 

“Isn’t it funny how well you fit here,” Steve says softly and Tony needs to make an effort to start breathing again.

A few beats later Steve starts stirring. Tony starts to get up but Steve makes a pained sound and squeezes him close with his leg.

“No, just… you’re right we should wipe a bit. There’s a T-shirt behind you on the floor, I can’ t reach it.”

Tony does. It’s a joke T-shirt, he remembers that one, he’d given it to Steve years ago. A cartoon Steve with impossibly large GI Joe muscles and square jaw and “AMERICA’S SON” at the bottom in huge, star spangled letters. Not official merchandize, of course and so ugly Tony can’t really complain for its use as a jizzrag.

“So you were wearing this?”

“It’s soft.” 

“I never thought you kept any of my gifts.”

“I can’t go around wearing a T-shirt with my face on it, Tony!”

Tony huffs a laugh and then burrows in Steve’s warmth again. He could get used to this.


End file.
